Ain't No Rest For The Wicked
by thelittlestteacup
Summary: When Daryl gets roped into looking after Logan Lehane for two weeks, he figures he has his work cut out for him. And that was BEFORE the apocalypse started. But the worst part is; she's just like her father...with a little extra crazy thrown in. Rating likely to change due to violence and course language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** A world of thank yous to my amazing beta Calcifer179 (check out his stuff!) for helping me brainstorm this fanfic idea and I have to say the character of Logan is really a joint creation, I am super happy with it all and his contributions have been awesome :) I'm mixing things up with the plot of the show A LOT and I need to stress that while the storyline and core characters will remain essentially the same in terms of their genre and attitudes, my OC is definitely a 'comic relief' type and it will probably change the overall tone of things. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter and I can't wait to update soon

**1.**

Daryl heard the car pulling up the long, dirt driveway before he saw it, and sighed before laying down the wrench he had been using on his truck. He ran his fingers through his short hair and wondered again why he had agreed to this, these were going to be a long two weeks.  
The white Honda Civic slowed to a stop out the front of the old weatherboard house and a leggy redhead stepped out the driver's seat, opening the door with a carefully manicured hand. She was wearing low heels, tight jeans and a black and white striped top that revealed a fair amount of cleavage. She peered over her fashionable sunglasses and looked Daryl up and down,  
"Daryl Dixon," she purred and moved to close the distance between him.  
"Becky Lehane," Daryl said with a small nod of acknowledgment, crossing his arms.  
"Uh uh," Becky waggled her finger at him, "It's Becky _Vasquez_ now."  
"Of course, you're married."  
"I'll take that as a 'congratulations'," she smirked, shifting the strap of her patent red handbag that hung from her shoulder.  
"Well sure, I'm happy for you," Daryl muttered, looking away a little awkwardly. Becky smiled at his pronouncement and turned back to the car,  
"Logan, get your butt out here sweetie!" The passenger side door swung open and Daryl watched the figure as it exited the car. Thank goodness she had gotten her mother's looks; red hair seemed to override the Dixon gene. She was tiny for her age, much smaller than he had expected, if he hadn't known that she'd turned seventeen not two months ago, he would have guessed her to much younger. She glanced his way with a mild interest and he could clearly see her steely blue eyes, the same colour he and his brother shared.  
"Don't know if y'all would remember each other, it's been such a long time hey? How old was Loges the last time we met up…eight?" Becky pulled a pack of menthol cigarettes from her handbag and lit up, her shiny red nails glinting in the sunlight.  
"Yeah," Daryl croaked, "It's been nearly ten years."  
"Phew and doesn't that just fly by. Listen, Daryl. We really appreciate you taking her like this. Gabe and I are so excited for our honeymoon! But I just couldn't leave Logan at home by herself for so long. She would get into all sorts…Isn't that right babe?" She joked jovially, taking a long drag of her cigarette. The teenager standing on the other side of the car stared down at her feet and shoved her hands into the pockets of her worn looking Levis.  
Daryl merely nodded, finding himself mimicking Logan's stance. Becky smiled warmly at him and tossed the butt of her smoke, stamping it out with the toe of her expensive looking shoe.  
She touched Daryl's arm and drew him out of hearing range of the vehicle and the girl, who was now leaning causally against it, surveying her surroundings.  
"Daryl…there is something you should know about Logan. Well, a couple of somethings," Becky softly intoned, eyeing her daughter nervously, "First off; she has that notorious Dixon attitude. I swear sometimes she seems worse than Merle ever was, maybe because of hormones. God knows. Also she…uh…Logan is a little _different_," she stressed the last word.  
"Different how?" Daryl raised an eyebrow.  
Becky shrugged and waved her hand in a dismissive action,  
"The doctors don't really have a word for it, no nice ones anyway. Terms like 'borderline psychopathy' and 'mental instability' have been thrown around a bit. She won't give you any trouble, I promise," Becky reassured seeing concern flicker across Daryl's face, "It's just how she is. She doesn't experience emotions like other people so don't be surprised if she says and does the wrong things at times. She's a good kid though, and I know she'll love being here with you."  
Daryl shrugged,  
"Well guess I don't have a choice in the matter now. You enjoy your holiday." Becky's smile was genuine and Daryl could see she was more relaxed now that she had explained Logan's special circumstances to him.  
"I suppose I best be off, need to get home before it gets dark and you guys have plenty of catching up to do," Becky's voice lilted cheerfully and Daryl watched as she walked back over to the car and around to her daughter, placing her hands on the teen's narrow shoulders and talking to her softly. Logan said something that Becky apparently found very amusing, as she threw her head back and laughed loudly before pulling Logan in for a hug.  
Approaching them, Daryl gestured to the boot,  
"You got bags and stuff? I'll help you take them inside."  
Logan nodded, her choppy red locks bouncing around her heart shaped face and she reached across the passenger seat to press the button that popped the boot, revealing a large duffel bag and a smaller backpack to Daryl. He grabbed them quickly, placing them carefully on the ground near his feet and slammed the boot shut. He wasn't good at saying farewells and really didn't want to hug Becky or anything like that, so picked up the bags, turned his heel and strode toward the house,  
"'Ya coming or what?" He called out to Logan as he made his way up the porch steps.  
He didn't hear a response from her, but must have finished saying her goodbyes as the engine of the car started and he could hear Logan's sure steps making their way to him.  
Daryl watched as she paused to wave to the retreating car and then turned back to him, an expression he couldn't name on her youthful face. He couldn't see a resemblance to him, Merle or his dad in her, except those eyes. Those damn blue eyes that every Dixon seemed to possess, although, Logan was a Lehane according to her birth certificate.  
She met his gaze and held firm, a whisper of a smile appearing on her lips and she nodded to the screen door, opening it and slipping inside the dark house.  
Daryl followed her, putting her bags down into the cluttered lounge room and stood, unsure of what to do from here.  
Logan looked around the open living and kitchen area, seemingly not bothered by the gloominess of the interior or the mess that littered the space. She hopped up onto one of the bar stools that sat at the bar style bench dividing the room and swivelled in a full circle until she was facing Daryl again,  
"So…what do you do for fun around here?" Her voice was high pitched and sweet, almost childlike.  
Daryl shrugged,  
"Not much to do in these parts, nothing a teenage girl would be interested in anyway. But I…uh…I have a TV," he gestured to the lounge area, "And I've got a huntin' trip with Uncle Jess planned for a few days. Guess you will have to tag along now." He sighed exasperatedly, wishing that Becky had given more notice before dumping the girl on him. Logan didn't seem to notice his frustrated tone and simply hopped off the stool and started down the nearby hallway. Daryl followed her quickly, pointing out the bathroom and toilet and then opening a door on the left,  
"You'll sleep in here, it was ma dad's room, but it's pretty clean." He had made the bed up freshly that morning and ensured all his dad's personal effects had been removed so now it was just a plain bedroom with a double bed, small bedside table and lamp and a simple wooden wardrobe.  
"That's ma room there," he pointed to the closed door at the end of the hall, "And this one here is Merle's, not that he ever uses it much. I wouldn't go in either of those if I were you." Logan registered his warning with a raise of her eyebrow and smirked at him,  
"Whatever you say boss man," she chimed before entering her temporary living space and twirling around in the centre of the room, eyes drifting up to the roof. Daryl shook his head and returned to the lounge to get her bags.  
"I don't really do anythin' special for dinner, so unless you can cook ya just gonna have to eat whatever I do."  
Logan chuckled,  
"No, I can't cook. But I saw you waving that wrench around outside," she thumbed in the direction of his truck, still parked out the front, "Bet I can fix whatever is wrong."

* * *

A few minutes later, Daryl stood with his hands on his hips, watching the small girl as she repaired the serpentine belt of his Ford F-250 pickup quickly and efficiently.  
"The damn thing has been troublin' me for days!"  
Logan wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and threw him a grin,  
"Let me guess, the turbo locked up and threw the belt right? Happens all the time in these old trucks so no biggie."  
Daryl returned her grin and shook his head,  
"How in Hell do ya know about any of this?"  
"Oh Gabe taught me. He's a diesel mechanic."  
"Oh," Daryl muttered, not really keen on discussing Becky's husband, but Logan didn't notice his disinterest and prattled on about the shop Gabe ran and how she helped out most of the time.  
"You don't go to school," Daryl interrupted, closing the bonnet of the truck and cleaning his hands on a greying rag from his back pocket.  
"You kidding me? I was out of that Hellhole the minute I turned fifteen. I don't tend to play well with others," Logan laughed.  
"Is that so? Ya know, I don't think there has ever been a Dixon to go past the tenth grade," Daryl mused, absentmindedly chewing the side of his thumb, a nasty habit he had picked up as a child.  
"Yeah well," Logan shrugged, "Call it a family tradition then." She pulled at a wisp of hair that hung across her forehead and turned her attention back to Daryl.  
"Okay my man, I am pretty much desperate for a shower now so that's where I'll be at. Laters." She practically skipped up to the house, stripping out of her plaid shirt as she did and hanging it over her shoulder. Daryl could see how skinny her arms were and figured at least that meant she probably wouldn't be expensive to feed. And she had fixed his truck. Maybe things weren't going to be as bad as he had expected.  
He headed back into the house after putting his tools away in the bed of the pickup and upon entering the hallway could hear the water of the shower and see the steam slowly creeping out from under the bathroom door. As he passed by there was a loud thud of something being dropped, followed by a squeal and then a string of curses that could make a sailor blush.  
"Damn," Daryl murmured to himself, "She really is Merle's daughter after all."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **A massive thank you to my beta, Calcifer179, for all the advice he offered on this chapter. I'm really happy with the way it turned out and hope you'll give it read, follow, review...all that jazz :)  
I'm kind of following the plot of 'Survival Instinct' at this point, I'm definitely referencing a certain scene in the first few minutes of the game AND a part of season 2 of 'TWD' with the final lines of this chapter ;)  
Oh and bonus points if you can figure what characters (one from an anime and one from a game) I have based Logan on. Might become more obvious as time goes by.  
Anyway, enjoy!**  
**

**2.**

The hunting trip was proving to be less productive than previous ones, countless times now Jess and Daryl had had to stop to search for Logan, who was continuously running off into the woods.  
"I'm getting pretty sick of this," Daryl growled under his breath to his half uncle as they were once again having to abandon their original game in order to track down his niece.  
"Lighten up Daryl," laughed Jess, slinging his Winchester hunting rifle over his shoulder, "She's just having fun. I seem to recall you pulling the same sort of shenanigans yer first time huntin'."  
Daryl winced, remembering the beating he had sustained after that trip due to his attitude. It had taken weeks for the bruises to heal, and even longer to convince his father to take him out hunting again.  
"I was only about five years old! Hell, that damn girl is nearly an adult."  
"Aw come now, ya know she ain't all there," Jess bit his lip. Daryl sighed, it was true. At first he had thought maybe Becky was exaggerating Logan's issues, in some attempt to justify typical teenage behaviour, but he had quickly learned that Logan was anything but a typical teenager. It was like she had no filter, no understanding of what was normal, and she just plain didn't care.  
He thought back to a few days prior when he had found her sleeping _under _the bed instead of in it. She had provided no explanation other than, "Mattresses are for the weak".  
They heard a giggle coming from somewhere up ahead of them and strode forward a few paces, Daryl lowering his Horton Scout crossbow, not wanting to startle Logan.  
A flame haired head suddenly swung down in front of them, causing Jess to release a surprised yelp. Logan was hanging upside from a tree branch drooping across their path, bony knees bent over the rough bark and a wild grin on her face. You should for all the world, like a child dangling from the monkey bar's at a playground.  
"What the fuck ya think yer doing?!" Daryl shouted, more startled by the girl's sudden appearance in front of him then he would ever admit. Jess suppressed a chuckle and shrugged;  
"Well we've found ya now little miss. How about ya stop mucking around and help us set up camp? We're only a short walk from the cabin now."  
Logan pushed her palms against the branch and lifting her legs back flipped with relative ease out of the tree, landing lithely on the balls of her feet in front of them.  
"Fine," she gave a melodramatic sigh, grinning all the same, "But only if you let me help gut those squirrels." Logan pointed to the dead rodents hanging from her uncle's belt. Daryl raised his eyebrow quizzically;  
"Ya really wanna do that?"  
"Sure. I want to know how their insides work!"  
Jess shrugged, an amused expression playing across his grizzled features.  
"Don't say I didn't warn ya!" Daryl shook his head and stalked off in the direction of their hunting cabin. Jess clapped a strong hand on Logan's shoulder to lead her along as they followed his nephew. He and Daryl had been close since he was just a young child, but in all the time he had known him he had never imagined the man being in charge of a teenager. He found it hilarious to see the hunter in the position of parental figure. All in all though, Daryl seemed to be doing a pretty good job of looking after the little firecracker, she was certainly happy enough. Jess frowned thinking of just how much Merle had missed out on with his daughter already; in fact, he had never even met her.  
It had been Daryl and Jess who had gone to the hospital after Logan was born, holding the infant awkwardly in their arms. Daryl had only been fifteen at the time, but from that moment on he had ensured he maintained at least some sort of relationship with Becky and Logan; sending Christmas and birthday cards, even writing the odd letter or making the occasional phone call just to check up on his niece. To Becky's credit she had encouraged the contact, quite often posting pictures of Logan so that the Dixons could watch her grow up from afar. Will pretended he didn't even have a grandchild, declaring that she was no kin of his and Merle had always become hostile when anyone brought up the subject of his bastard child, sneering at the photos they shoved under his nose and showing no interest in connecting with Logan.  
Over time, Daryl and Becky had stopped making as much of an effort and photos and letters were exchanged less and less regularly, but Jess knew that Daryl had always loved his niece in the only way he could. The boy was fiercely loyal to his family; it was one of his best, and worst, qualities.

* * *

They had quickened their pace and made it to the wood cabin long before dark. The small building had been in the Dixon family for generations and despite having been used several times a year since it's erection, it still stood firm and provided them with shelter during these hunting trips. It even boasted an outhouse and a smoke house, which had once been utilised for drying and storing meat, but since the invention of the esky was no longer required.  
It only took Jess a few minutes to build a fire using the wood from the pile stored against the side of the cabin, and soon the flames were licking the slightly damp logs and kindling. It was a warm afternoon, but better to build a fire up before night fell and it meant they could have dinner ready earlier than expected.  
After moving their bags into the cabin and giving Logan the tour, Daryl had sat down on one of the tree stumps strategically placed around the fire pit to show her how to skin and gut the squirrels they had caught that day. He was expecting her to gag or turn away in disgust, but found it was he who got queasy when Logan dipped a pinky into the squirrel's exposed stomach and tasted the blood.  
"Excellent year, a very fragrant bouquet," she said, somehow remaining completely seriously.  
"Yer an odd kid, ya know that?"  
Logan grinned, showing nice, white teeth and unusually long canines;  
"Everyone seems to think so. I maintain that I am the normal one and you're all batshit crazy."  
"If ya'll done bonding," Jess called jovially, "It would be great if you could get 'em squirrels cooking. I need to grab more kindling, we're running a little low."  
"Yeah sure," Daryl nodded and returned to his job, slitting another one of the squirrels down the middle as Logan laughed evilly.

* * *

Jess carried a small tomahawk in one hand, ideal for cutting up fine pieces of wood and an unlit cigarette dangled from his lip. He hadn't realised how far he had walked until the cabin and smoke from the campfire were long gone from his line of sight. The small clearing he found housed several fallen trees, making it an ideal place to collect kindling that could ensure they'd be able to relight the fire with ease the following day. Jess set about his job of stripping the finer branches from the surrounding logs with precision that only years of hunting and camping could provide. He was so absorbed in the task at hand that he didn't notice that anyone was approaching him until they were only a few feet away.  
The crack of twigs and leaf litter underfoot finally alerted him to the new presence and he looked up quickly, observing the shuffling figure with confusion and curiousity.  
"Hey, hey are you okay? Whatcha doing out here in these woods?" He moved toward them, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, just starting to dip below the treetops, so he could get a better look at their form.  
They looked a little worse for wear, their clothes torn and their skin showed dirt and bruising. It was a young man, although Jess couldn't guess his age, and he sported a gaping wound on his right arm that looked infected and raw.  
"Shit man. What the Hell happened to ya?" Jess asked. A low moaning rasped up from the injured man's chest as he closed the distance between himself and the hunter, arms now held in front of him as if he was going in for a hug. Jess backed away carefully, raising his hands defensively.  
"Seriously…Ya need to back down. Tell me what happened." He looked down at the axe that was still buried in the log beside him, tempted to pick it up, though he didn't want to frighten the man any more than he needed to. That moment of distraction was all it took.  
The stranger lunged, a dog like growl emerging from his throat. Jess caught a glimpse of colourless, dead eyes before the weight of his attacker forced him to the ground and pain ripped through his body as flesh tore between teeth.  
He was oddly aware of his heart beating to bursting point inside his chest, the hum of bubbling blood and screaming which sounded remarkably like his own. A second aggressor had joined the fray now, drawn in by the agonised screams, and the unknown assailant began tearing through his jeans and into the shin below. Jess thought how this couldn't be happening, how these people couldn't possibly be human and his voice failed him as his strength did.  
A yell and a wicked laugh rose above the sound of teeth on bone, and he felt a weight lifted from his chest as the body of one of his attackers was pulled away. There was the noise of a scuffle, a girlish shout of "Come at me!" and then a brief silence.

* * *

Daryl stared down at the mangled body of Jess, who was breathing in short, rapid gasps, and fought the tears that were filling his eyes. His crossbow hung at his side and he dropped it to the ground, unable to prevent his hands from shaking. He glanced at Logan who was inspecting the body of the woman she had felled, touching it with the toe of her boot, a little half smile quirking the edge of her lips as she shook her head in wonderment.  
"Jess…Jess man…" Daryl's words were failing him at the realisation that his beloved uncle wasn't going to make it, "Aww shit."  
He sighed deeply. The best thing he could do was to put him out of his misery.  
Daryl mechanically pulled his pistol out of the waistband of his jeans and lined it up with Jess' head, hesitating and not wanting to even touch the hammer, let alone pull the trigger. His arm fell aside and he dropped his head to his chest, moaning softly, before steeling himself and trying again. Jess' blue eyes locked onto his own and once again his nerve failed him and he couldn't bring himself to fire the weapon.  
Logan was at Daryl's side, gently prying the revolver from his fingers;  
"I'll do it," she said, a bit too keenly for Daryl's liking, and as much as it shamed him to be putting his niece in this position he couldn't find the voice to argue.  
The girl knelt down on one knee until she was within reaching distance of Jess and met his gaze evenly. She pulled the hammer back and positioned the gun so it was at his forehead;  
"Soz bro," she sniffed, just before a loud gunshot echoed through the forest around them and Jess closed his eyes, for the last time.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **This was pretty much the most awesome chapter to write ever. I had a lot of fun with it, especially coming up with all the references. Big high fives to anyone who can pick them all :D Please review, follow etc. I love to know people are enjoying what I'm writing and I promise I have lots of crazy/awesome things planned for this fic! As always, much love to my beta, Calcifer179. He is the coolest!  
Enjoy!

**3.**

Daryl snuck a sideways glance at his niece, who was sitting next to him on the bench seat of the pickup, her legs stretched out and feet crossed casually over the dashboard.  
Logan seemed completely relaxed, bopping her head along to some imaginary tune and cleaning dirt from under her nails with a small pocketknife. She hadn't made any mention of Jess or how she had been forced to kill him, and Daryl was partially thankful seeing as he didn't want to face the subject either, but he was also worried that she might be bottling up her emotions.  
After Logan had shot Jess, Daryl had had a brief moment of weakness, falling to his knees and choking out dry sobs. But within seconds, the young girl had pulled on the sleeve of his jacket saying,  
"You can rest when you're dead, get up Broseph. We've got work to do."  
Her words, while cold, were exactly what he needed to hear to snap him out of his misery and soon they were dragging his uncle's body back to the cabin and digging a shallow grave for him.  
Originally, Daryl had wanted to carry Jess' body back to their truck, to take home so he could be buried properly, but Logan had laughed off his suggestion.  
"Wow man, you are such an idiot. Have you never seen a zombie movie? I bet this wasn't just a couple of random Hannibals…this, my friend, is the start of the apocalypse," she'd gestured grandly. Daryl had shaken his head dumbly, knowing that she was probably right; something was going on and they needed answers.  
They had bunked in the cabin for the night, darkness had fallen shortly after they had buried Jess and then made the hike back to where the truck had been left, traveling much faster than they had the previous day. Logan, to her credit, didn't run and hide, but rather stuck to him like glue, keeping up with his much bigger strides and whistling quietly as they jogged. She was apparently unfazed by the events of the day before, and Daryl thought back to Becky's words; "…She doesn't experience emotions like other people…"  
The memory of Logan's mother made Daryl stiffen in the driver's seat and tighten his grip on the steering wheel. He hoped that whatever this was had remained localised, that things weren't as bad as Logan was assuming they were. Logan had mentioned her mother was honeymooning on some island called Banoi, maybe it would be safer there where it was so remote? But as they drove through town, back towards the Dixon property, Daryl knew it was just wishful thinking.

* * *

In just a couple of days, his home town had changed dramatically. Most people appeared to have evacuated at the first signs of danger, so the streets were deserted and eerie. Abandoned vehicles littered the main road and every now and then he spotted evidence of physical confrontations such as dried blood or broken glass.  
Daryl didn't stop the truck to investigate anything closely, he just wanted to stock up at home and get out as quickly as possible, keen to head to Fontana and collect Merle.  
Shortly before he had received a phone call from Becky requesting his help in looking after Logan, Merle had been arrested for a handful of charges, including assault and substance abuse. He was, as far as Daryl knew, still being held in the Fontana county jail, and so that would be their ultimate destination. Merle may have been a bastard at the best of times, but he was now one of only two members of Daryl's family left, and he wasn't about to let his brother rot in a cell until things calmed down. Or worse, get attacked like Jess had been.  
Fontana was a full day's drive away, so they would need more supplies then they had on them and a more gas for the truck, and Merle's bike was still parked in the shed at home. Daryl definitely wasn't going to leave that behind.  
"Holy shit! Check out that ugly mofo!" Logan called out, breaking his train of thought. She pointed eagerly out the window, at a particularly battered looking individual who was stumbling along the footpath. The man raised his head at the sound of their truck and they heard his throaty growl as they drove by, making a dash toward them futilely.  
"I want to see him bleed!" Logan grinned, "Come on dude, we can take him."  
Daryl shook his head,  
"Screw that, we got bigger things to take care of. We still don't even know what this is yet."  
The redhead snorted and kicked the dash half-heartedly,  
"You suck Dixon! Live a little…tomorrow we might be dead."  
Choosing to ignore her, Daryl continued their steady space, driving between obstacles on the road, which included several more of the 'creatures', some that seemed vaguely familiar. It was possible; in fact likely, that many of the people he had known were dead, just like Jess.  
Sighing, and trying to forget the image of his uncle's cold, limp body, Daryl pulled the Ford into the driveway, slowing to a stop as they arrived at the front of the house.  
He hadn't bothered to lock up before they had left. He had nothing of value for people to steal, and everyone knew not to fuck with the Dixons. However, Daryl was now regretting his decision, worried that an unwanted intruder may have entered the premises while they had been camping.  
Before he could stop her, Logan had sprung like a cat out of the van and sprinted toward the front door, ripping it open and strolling inside and out of his sight.  
"Shit," Daryl muttered, quickly exiting the car and following her.

* * *

The house was quiet, and gloomy as per usual, and there was no sign of Logan or thankfully, anyone else.  
"Logan," he hissed, "Where are ya girl?"  
Daryl caught a glimpse of her fluffy head as it popped out of her doorway down the hall,  
"Sup Daryl? You want something?"  
"What the Hell is wrong with you?! One of those things could have been in here," he tried to hide the panic in his voice as he approached her.  
His niece smiled cheerily and stepped back into her room, already a mess after just a few days of sleeping there.  
"Wow kid, make yourself at home! Hey, is that my radio?" Daryl grunted angrily, noticing the portable stereo, now in pieces on the bedside table.  
Logan shrugged dismissively,  
"I was bored."  
"You're lucky we've got shit to do or I'd kick yer scrawny arse!"  
"Think you can take me old man?" She taunted, raising her fists in a mock fighter's stance, "Bring it!"  
"I told ya, we got shit to do. Pack yer bags and then go to the kitchen and get anything we can carry. We may not be coming back," Daryl ordered as he left her room.  
"Are you planning on telling me where we are going?" She queried as she followed him, her pixie face lit up in curiousity.  
"Nope," he replied shortly, heading into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him. He heard Logan kick it roughly, grumbling something inaudible as she returned back up the hallway. Daryl turned to survey the clutter of his sleeping area, and grabbed a few empty backpacks, stuffing them with clothes that were only mostly clean and some other bits and pieces. He left space for toiletries and visited the bathroom on his way out of the house, pausing to observe his niece as she tore apart the kitchen, throwing what little food she found there into garbage bags.  
"Think we'll be cooking much?" She asked, holding aloft a frying pan, "I could always use this for skull bashing I guess."  
"We've got stuff like that in the truck already, from camping, leave it."  
Logan nodded once and went back to her task obediently, and Daryl ran from the house, carrying the first load of backs and securing them in the bed of the truck alongside their camping gear. He ensured he left space for the Triumph Bonneville, Merle's bike was old, but hard wearing and he knew his brother would kill him if he didn't think to grab it.  
He loaded the remainder of the stuff and made sure Logan was comfortable in the front seat before heading around the back of the house to grab the motorcycle. He swung his crossbow so it hung over his back opened up the shed quietly, noting happily that like the house, it was free of danger.  
The Triumph started up easily, after Daryl had turned the key in the ignition and he kicked it off, half wheeling, half riding it out of the large shed. Rounding the corner of the house, the sound of guttural snarling and high pitched laughter filled his ears and he sped up, racing toward the truck.  
A person who somewhat resembled his distant neighbour, Buck Redford, was trying to corner Logan against the side of the vehicle, grasping clumsily for her. The little redhead was giggling hysterical, shamelessly baiting the crazed man, ducking his swings and lightly swatting him with her fists. She bored of their dance quickly, however, and placed a well-aimed roundhouse kick to his chest, sending the large attacker sprawling.  
"Logan!" Daryl yelled, stalling the bike and jumping off it, loading his crossbow on the run.  
"It's cool dude, I totally got this one," his niece chuckled, pulling the frypan out from the cab of the truck, holding it in front of her as if it was a sword.  
"Hello. My name is Logan Lehane. You killed…well probably a bunch of people you son of a bitch. Prepare to die," she intoned, seriously, before swinging the kitchen utensil down across Buck's skull, cracking through the bone and into the brain below. He crumpled to the ground in front of her and Logan spat at his body, before peeking up through her hair to catch Daryl's eye and winking.  
"And that's how it's done."  
"Ya could have been killed!" Daryl bristled, walking towards her and checking her up and down for any sign of injury.  
"Well as you can see I'm fine and dandy. Can you get that bike on the truck already? I'm rearing to go!"  
Shaking his head in shock, Daryl examined the corpse at his feet, wondering what had happened to poor Buck to make him into one of those things. He must have asked the question aloud because Logan bent down lifting the tattered sleeve of Buck's flannel shirt to reveal a weeping bite wound on his forearm.  
"They bite," she answered in explanation, throwing her weapon through the truck's open passenger side door and climbing in after it.  
After lowering the lift at the back of the Ford, Daryl expertly loaded the Triumph into the truck bed and secured it, then joined the teenager in the cab and turned the truck around, starting back up the driveway.  
There was silence for a few minutes, as they were both lost in their own thoughts. Daryl couldn't stop thinking of his niece's assault on Buck, the word "badass" inadvertently coming to mind, no matter how much he kept reminding himself she was just a young girl.  
Logan glanced affectionately at the cast iron frying pan beside her and looked up at her uncle with a sly grin,  
"And you said I should leave it behind. Wanker."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Yay chapter 4! Thanks to my awesome beta **Calcifer179** :)  
I'm loving putting references to other sources in this story. A lot so far has been based on 'Survival Instinct', but I have included random quotes and scenarios from other things too, most not zombie related. It's a lot of fun to write! See if you can pick up on any :D  
Logan is really crazy and spontaneous and I have some awesome things planned for her. Anyway...R&R, everything is so appreciated xo

**4.**

They had driven in silence for most of the day, seeing no survivors, but plenty of "Zombitches", as Logan was calling them. They travelled through a couple of towns without stopping, all of which seemed to be in even worse condition then Daryl's hometown.  
"Where is everyone? How has all of this happened in just a couple of days?" He had asked aloud, not really expecting his niece to answer, but she had turned towards him with a sneer on her pretty little face;  
"Seriously man? Not even 'Dawn of the Dead'? Geez, you are clueless."  
He had shut up after that, trying not to dwell on the fact that a teenager was better equipped for the end of the world than he, a grown man and experienced hunter. It was just too embarrassing.  
At around noon Logan had put her headphones on and started using her iPod, and Daryl had shaken his head at the sheer normality of the action. Somehow, the girl was still unaffected by their situation, all she cared about was listening to music and kicking the occasional zombie arse. He had to admire her tenacity.  
Driving quickly, they arrived in the outskirts of Fontana and Daryl considered their options; continue into the large town during dusk and try and find Merle and a place to stay for the night or stay somewhere nearby and take the town in the morning, using the daylight to their advantage. He decided on the latter and started scouring the road for a suitable place to hold out.  
The neon sign of a motel caught his eye and he pulled the pickup into the parking lot, surveying the area carefully for any signs of movement, before hopping out of the truck. Logan left her headphones on and practically danced out of the old Ford, her head moving in time to whatever music she was listening to. Tapping her on the shoulder and raising his crossbow, Daryl strode toward the first motel room, the one they had parked in front of, and peered through a gap in the curtains into the room beyond. It looked safe, but he wasn't taking any chances. Just as he was about to kick the door in, Logan appeared by his right side, holding a ring of keys aloft. Daryl opened his mouth to question her, but before he could speak, she pointed down the line of rooms to the main office.  
Daryl sighed heavily, was this girl ever going to learn not to wander off by herself? But he accepted the keys she offered and opened the motel room with the key marked '1' to correspond with the numbering on the plain wood door.  
He poked his head inside and then, still brandishing his crossbow, combed every inch of the room and adjacent en suite for dangers. It was indeed safe, just two single beds with tacky floral bedspreads, a built-in wardrobe and basic bathroom facilities. Logan finally removed her bulky, white headphones from her ears, instead wrapping them around her neck and tested the shower. She grinned at Daryl when a steady stream of water burst forth from the showerhead.  
"Sweet!" She cried, delighted at the prospect of being clean again. Daryl was a redneck through and through and couldn't give a shit about whether there was running water or not, but the teen girl seemed to love taking long, luxurious showers, a trait that went against her tomboyish nature.  
"Stay here," he ordered, "I'm going to go make sure the other rooms are clear so we don't get any surprises in the night. Ya gonna be okay?"  
Logan rolled her eyes and shut the bathroom door, turning the shower up full as she did so. Daryl sighed again and counted his arrows, checked the knife strapped to his leg and exited their room, locking the door behind him. He rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms and started walking up the line of rooms, checking each one cautiously. They were all empty of residents, undead or otherwise, but he did find several bottles of water, soda, muesli bars, jerky and a few random shirts and blankets, all of which he threw into the pack he was carrying on his left shoulder.  
When Daryl returned, Logan was sitting cross-legged, Indian style on the carpet, wet hair plastered to her face and dressed in one of his t-shirts, which hung down past her knees like a dress.  
"Did I say ya could wear that?" He grumbled, half-heartedly, too tired to really argue.  
"No…but then again I didn't ask."  
He tossed her a can of tuna and fork, grabbing one as well and propping himself up on some pillows on one of the beds. They ate in silence for a while, before Logan pushed her food away and sat up straight, meeting her uncle's eye,  
"So can you finally tell me what the plan is?"  
Daryl chewed his mouthful slowly, contemplating what he was going to say,  
"We're gonna go get Merle. He's holed up in the Fontana jail 's far as I know…I can't just leave him there."  
The young girl stretched out on the carpet, pointing her toes and then flexing them for a few moments.  
"Yeah that's cool. Breaking into a jail is going to be wicked!" She grinned, but Daryl thought he saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes before she pulled herself off the floor and curled up on top of the blankets of the bed opposite him.  
"Nighty night dude," she whispered, closing her eyes and snoring softly within minutes. Daryl picked up their empty tuna cans, throwing them into the wastepaper basket purely out of habit and double checked that the door and windows were secure, before getting into his bed. He pulled the covers up around his face and wished that he could fall asleep as easily as Logan could; he knew that when he closed his eyes images of Jess' face would flood his mind until he would eventually fall into a restless sleep.

* * *

The light creeping through the curtains shone against Daryl's eyelids, waking him with a start. They had slept later than he had intended, his niece was still snoozing, and lying in the same position she had dozed off in.  
He stepped out of bed lightly, pulling on his socks and boots and stretching out his aching muscles. Movement from outside the window caught his eye and he crouched on the floor, creeping over to the door quietly and pulling back the corner of the curtain.  
"Shit," the hunter hissed under his breath, dropping lower to the floor and crawling over to Logan's bed. Waking her up was like waking the dead, but eventually she stirred and mewed in annoyance, opening her eyes to glare at him.  
"What the fu…?" She began, before Daryl silenced her by covering her mouth with his dirty hand, raising a finger to his lips. Logan childishly licked the palm of his hand, and he withdrew it in disgust, glaring at her. He motioned his head towards the door and after a brief pause the sounds of shuffling feet and low moans became audible.  
He watched her blue eyes widen in surprise and a slow grin etch across her elfin face. She made to jump off the bed and Daryl held her back;  
"Logan, no!" He whispered, his tone serious, "There's too many…even for ya to handle."  
"How many?" She asked eagerly.  
"Twenty…maybe, I couldn't see all of them. The car park is full of the damn things."  
"We can take 'em, we're faster, stronger…"  
Daryl shook his head, releasing her from his grasp so that she could slide off the bed and onto the floor beside him.  
"There ain't gonna be a discussion about this. Ya need to do what I say."  
"Whatever," Logan shrugged, clearly not bothered as long as there was some potential for violence.  
"We can't stay 'ere all day, more of them may just keep pouring in…I'm going to give ya cover fire and let ya make a run for the truck. Don't run off and play the hero okay? Just take down the ones ya have to until yer safe and in the Ford."  
"What about you?" Logan kicked on her Converse, not bothering with socks and reached up under the pillow to where she had hidden her frying pan earlier.  
"Ya gonna take this," Daryl reached into his pack that was sitting next to the door and pulled out his pistol, "Once ya get to the truck ya can provide cover for me…Can ya shoot? Uh…not close range?" He asked, thinking back to the moment when she had pulled the trigger on Jess.  
She snorted, took the gun and checked it over,  
"I've been handling guns since I was ten, Mum's ex was a cop, he trained me up real good. Don't you even worry; I've got your back."  
Daryl nodded, strangely reassured by the teen's confidence and not doubting her words for a second. Logan was a lot of things, but she definitely wasn't a liar.  
She put the pistol's safety on and stepped up slowly.  
"Geez girl, ya still in just my shirt!" Daryl exclaimed quietly, taking in her the oversized tee and her black, canvas high-tops. She looked down, staring at her bare legs for a moment;  
"I think you mean _my _pyjamas. Nothing I can do about it now anyway, least I'll be able to run fast." Her grin was infectious and Daryl couldn't help but smile back. Logan picked up her backpack from where it sat next to his and glanced inside, making sure all her possessions were still in one place and then shouldered it, gripping her weapons in either hand.  
She pushed one of the curtains aside and let out a low whistle at the sight of the zombies milling around the parking lot.  
"Fucking oath, this is going to be hella fun!"  
Once Daryl had loaded his crossbow and picked up his own bag he gave the young girl a nod and gestured to the door.  
The noise of it creaking open made them both still for a moment, expecting the group outside to lunge suddenly, but they didn't even turn toward them until Logan had opened the door all the way and stepped out into the sunlight.  
"Hey do you work out?" She asked the nearest undead, who turned his head at the sound of her voice, emitting a low growl.  
"Logan! Stop fucking around and run!" Her uncle screamed, moving behind her and firing his crossbow, the bolt flying from it in a perfect arc and piercing the eye of woman who was lurching toward the redhead. The group of zombies were encroaching fast and everywhere Daryl turned he saw decaying flesh and lifeless hands reaching for them. Logan had disappeared into the group, eliciting a series of curses and cries from the redneck as he had shot arrow after arrow until there were none left. A flash of bright hair by the truck made him sigh in relief as the young girl popped up from the crowd, apparently no worse for wear, twirling her frying pan like it was a baton and hitting everything in sight.  
A screech of tyres caught Daryl's attention over the groans of the hoard and suddenly a large 4-wheel drive had appeared, ploughing through bodies like they were nothing.  
The black vehicle came to a stop and two figures jumped out; both armed with melee weapons of some description and started taking down attackers calmly and quickly. There were definitely more than twenty of the creatures out here, moving faster than Daryl had thought was possible, but they were making progress and within a few minutes of hand to hand combat had managed to slay the last of them.  
"Hell yeah! That was intense!" Logan hollered to him, jumping down from where she had been clinging to the side of the truck and running over.  
The strangers approached them and Daryl looked at them more closely, feeling a little wary about their sudden arrival. One was a female, with red hair several shades darker than Logan's. She looked to be in her early twenties and brandished a large machete. The other was a man, tall with black hair who wielded a baseball bat. His right shoulder and arm were bandaged and fresh blood was creeping through the gauze.  
"Looks like we got here just in time," the woman said, extending a hand to Daryl, "I'm Scout."  
He reluctantly shook her hand, knowing that without these two he and his niece may very well be dead now.  
"Daryl," he murmured, "And this is Logan," he gestured to the girl who was standing next to him, looking very rosy cheeked and still holding the pistol and frying pan.  
"This here is Noah," Scout pointed out the darkhaired man, who moved forward to shake Daryl's hand, "You're both damn lucky. That's the biggest herd we have seen so far. Must have all come from up the road a ways."  
"Yeah…uh…thanks for that," the hunter rubbed his chin awkwardly, he had never been good at small talk.  
"You guys from around here?" Noah asked, glancing around nervously as if waiting for more zombies to appear.  
"Nearby…We're just passing through," Daryl replied, testily, as he walked through the fallen bodies, pulling his arrows out of the skulls and shoulders they had struck.  
Scout nodded and ventured a smile at Logan;  
"I have to say honey, for a small fry, you did pretty well out there."  
"'Pretty well?' Whatever you reckon Jessica Rabbit, I kick arse!"  
"Cocky little thing aren't you?" Scout laughed, turning back to Daryl, "She yours?"  
"My niece," he sniffed in response, bewildered by her relaxed nature, she seemed so at ease talking to perfect strangers.  
"Have you been bitten?" Logan stared at Noah's wound, frowning at the bloody bandages, "'Cause I'm happy to 'take care' of you if you like." The man's brown eyes widened in surprise and a touch of fear and he raised one hand defensively.  
"No, no need for that…I was shot."  
"Shot?" The girl enquired, "That's pretty cool…"  
Scout nodded,  
"I wouldn't exactly say that, but yeah there is some maniac on the roof of the jail in town, taking pot shots at everything that moves, whether it's Turned or not."  
"I'm lucky he just grazed me, a few inches over and that would have been it for me."  
"Merle," Daryl muttered to himself, trying to make eye contact with his niece, who was attempting to poke Noah's wound and earning glares from both the newcomers.  
"We gotta head out now…thanks again," he started, tugging on Logan's shirt and leading her back over to the truck.  
"No worries, always good to see other survivors. Stay safe! And keep away from that lunatic!" Scout called, wishing them well as Daryl helped Logan into the truck and dumped his bag next to her, before walking around the front of the cab to the driver's side door.  
"That ain't no lunatic," he scowled, "He's my brother."  
He watched looks of confusion and worry pass between Noah and Scout as he reversed the Ford, avoiding their larger car and drove back out of the motel car park, heading into Fontana.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Woo hoo! Finally got this chapter up. Let me know what y'all think :) I know that non-romance 'TWD' fanfics aren't particularly popular, but give this one a chance! As always thanks to my beta **Calcifer179**, and thank you to all who read this and take the time to follow, favourite and review. It means the world to me!

**5.**

Fontana had definitely been hit harder than the previous towns they had travelled through. The streets were almost entirely blocked by abandoned vehicles and rubbish, the shops windows were either broken or boarded up and Daryl could already see that it boasted a high population of undead. Bodies littered the road, all in various states of decomposition. Some were fresh corpses, with few visible wounds and reasonably clean skin. Others were essentially carcasses, unrecognisable from the people they had once been.  
Logan stuck her head out of the window like an excitable dog and raised her hand in a 'stop' motion to Daryl, who slowed the truck in front of a particularly dense pile up of cars and twisted metal.  
"I don't think we can drive through here man."  
"Ya right, the jail is on the other side too."  
"Of course it is," the girl laughed in reply, "It would be too easy otherwise."  
Daryl let the Ford slide to a halt and cut off the engine before turning to his niece;  
"You stay here. Be ready to make a quick exit. Ya still got that pistol…?" Logan raised the gun in a mock salute, "Good, I'm gonna try and find ya a knife too, that frying pan of yer's ain't gonna last forever."  
"I'm not just going to sit here twiddling my thumbs Daryl."  
"For once in ya life just listen to me okay? I'll be quieter by myself, quicker. Plus…" the man trailed off, unsure how to explain the second part of his reasoning to her, "I think it would be better if it's just me who Merle sees to start with."  
"Aw what? You mean he isn't going to be pleased to see _me_?" Logan's hand fluttered to her mouth and her voice dripped sarcasm.  
"Who knows what he'll do, probably been up on that roof for hours, sun stroked and all…"  
"I'm not just going to sit on my arse man; I'll scavenge these shops okay? Look for more supplies and whatnot."  
"Fine," Daryl conceded, "Stay out of trouble though; I can't be coming back to ya easily. If shit starts to go down ya gotta hightail it outta here."  
"Thanks for that Captain Obvious."  
"Ya watch yer mouth!" The redneck barked, jumping out of the truck and checking his weapons over to ensure they were ready to go. Logan followed suite, the long shirt she wore hanging loosely on her sticklike legs. She pulled a few strips of jerky from the cab of the truck and her backpack from where it had hastily shoved on the floor panel and swung one strap over her shoulder.  
"I'm gonna go get dressed, stake out some of these buildings. If you aren't back in an hour I'll come looking."  
Daryl grumbled at this, but didn't see the point in arguing with her. She was proving to be even more stubborn than him, maybe even worse than Merle, and it would only prolong finding his brother and getting the Hell out of there. He wasn't looking forward to what would happen when he had located the older Dixon, what Merle's reaction to being forced to interact with his long-lost daughter would be…  
With a nod goodbye, Daryl began to weave his way as silently as he could through the wreckage, every now and then coming across a zombie that was shuffling amongst the cars. He grasped his hunting knife close to his chest and learned to take them out quickly, coming up from behind the groaning forms and stabbing them fluidly through the base of their skulls and upwards, ensuring he destroyed the brain just as Logan had instructed.  
It was slow going, but seemed almost too easy and the road was becoming less blocked and more open the further he walked down the main street. That was good and bad, easier for him to move, but also easier for the undead to gather, and he could see larger numbers of them further down the street.  
Daryl ducked into a nearby pharmacy, surveying it to ensure it was safe and empty and he took a moment to formulate a plan. The jail was, from memory, one block down and two streets over, meaning he had a fair bit of ground to cover and God knows how many zombies to take down before he even got close to his goal. He needed to find a back way; the alleys behind the buildings would likely be less overrun than the main streets, safer for him and Merle to travel back to the truck and then it was just a matter of making introductions. He certainly wasn't looking forward to the way his brother would react upon meeting Logan; it wasn't something he wanted to dwell on more than necessary. One thing at a time.  
The road was reasonably clear when Daryl poked his head back out the pharmacy doorway, he stuck to the left side, knowing that that was where the jail was positioned and moved like a ghost past two other deserted shops before he entered the alleyway. It was narrow, and contained a solitary zombie who was feasting on the carcass of what appeared to be a cat. It didn't even notice him creep up from behind and plunge his knife up and under its skull, merely falling to the ground with a dull thud and a low gurgling sound.  
The rest of the trip through the alleys was uneventful until the jail loomed in sight and then the sound of a gun cracked the air, making Daryl back hastily up against a wall for cover.  
"Merle...," he hissed, raising his crossbow at the ready.  
The ground surrounding the jail was packed with corpses, most of which appeared to be undead that had been taken out by well-placed bullets. His brother didn't have many positive qualities, but he had always been a damn good shot.  
The area looked reasonably clear, so Daryl hesitantly stepped a little closer toward the jail, keeping to the shadows to avoid being caught in Merle's line of random fire. He arrived shortly at the front of the building and stalked up the steps and through the dimly lit officers and cells, stopping to loot the mangled bodies of two cops for the little ammo they had on them.  
It was only a small county jail and walking down the lines of cells revealed them to all be empty, some busted open in hasty escapes. The roof access was up a flight of stairs and through a door marked with a neon 'exit' sign, two zombies blocked the way, but Daryl made short work of them, feeling his muscles growing used to the repetitive actions of lunge, stab, repeat. As he pulled open the metal door, a familiar voice swirled down from above, a low Southern drawl was yelling incomprehensible slurs.  
Daryl took a deep breath and as quietly as he could made his way up the ladder attached to the side of the building, hearing the occasional gunshot ring out across the rooftop and the yells grow progressively louder as he reached the roof and pulled himself up over the side.  
Merle was crouched across from him, his skin reddened by the sun and his stance visibly off balance. He gripped a large scoped rifle in his muscular arms and upon hearing the steps of a newcomer on the concrete roof he had turned to raise the gun in a threatening manner.  
"Merle!" Daryl yelled, "Merle don't shoot, it's me. It's Daryl."  
"You ain't Daryl!" Merle screamed, waving the shotgun crazily overhead, "Daryl's dead. Everyone's dead…"  
"Merle, you need to calm down!" The younger Dixon brother made his way across the rooftop carefully, not willing to lower his crossbow, but not wanting to threaten the sun stroked redneck further. It was to no avail, however, as Merle aimed the gun and fired it aggressively, the bullet connecting with the concrete close to Daryl's feet as he dropped his own weapon and dove for his brother. The two men rolled in a death grip, locked onto each other, both throwing the odd punch that resulted in the other groaning in pain. Daryl eventually managed to overpower his larger sibling, using the man's fatigue against him and pinned Merle to the ground. His blue eyes were hazy with fear and uncertainty, but managed to focus on Daryl's face and recognition flashed across them;  
"Daryl? Daryl you came to get me…"  
"Well I wasn't about to leave ya to get eaten," he reasoned, loosening his grasp on Merle's wrists a fraction, but not releasing him entirely.  
"I'm okay, you can get the Hell off me now," the older man grumbled, a touch of embarrassment in his gruff voice.  
Daryl reluctantly moved off Merle, offering his hand to assist his brother in standing up. The sunburn was worse close up and he was very shaky on his feet, but he refused to lean against Daryl, brushing him off dismissively.  
"Took yer bloody time to come and get me. What were you doing? Off picking flowers?"  
Daryl grunted in response and ran his fingers through his short, dark hair;  
"It took a while to get here, alright? There were a few delays…"  
"Whatever, been having a bit of fun shooting those freaks anyway," Merle grinned and licked his dry lips.  
"Ya shot more than that, we ran into some guy you managed to get too."  
"Ha ha! Probably served the bastard right," he cackled as the pair made their way back across the roof to the ladder, "Wait…whose 'we'?"  
Daryl sighed, he hadn't realised the slip up he had made, trust Merle to pick up on something like that.  
"We have company, you don't know her…"  
"Oh ho! A lady friend hey?" The grey haired man cackled, stumbling a little as he jumped off the ladder onto the platform below.  
"It's definitely not like that man…You'll see," Daryl muttered, not wanting to reveal too much before he had to.  
They made their way back through the jail; progress was slow as Merle had to support himself with one hand on the wall, his dehydration causing him to be extremely lightheaded.  
Two zombies had gathered at the front entrance of the jail, but they reacted slowly when the Dixons rushed towards them. Merle succeeding in taking down the male undead efficiently despite his fatigued state, ramming the butt of his rifle into its skull multiple times in quick succession.  
Weaving their way back through the pile up of vehicles, the Ford soon came into sight and Daryl saw Logan leaning casually against it. She was now dressed in black leggings tucked into a pair of knee high combat boots that the hunter hadn't seen before and a baggy grey shirt. She had tied her red hair into two scruffy looking pigtails and was inspecting a large knife that Daryl assumed she had looted during his absence.  
"It's now or never," he murmured under his breath, pointing Merle in the direction of the truck, who was eyeing the young girl with a look of amusement and confusion.  
"You're lucky man!" Logan hollered as greeting when she saw the two men approaching her, "I was just about to leave."  
"Yeah yeah," Daryl replied, clapping a hand on her shoulder once he was near enough and standing next to her protectively, "Glad to see ya in one piece kid. Where'd ya get the boots?"  
"Badass right?" She grinned, staring at them admiringly, "She won't be needing them anymore." Daryl nodded in understanding and breathed in sharply, preparing himself for the introduction that he now had to make. His brother was pulling a bottle of water from the truck bed, drinking it straight from its large plastic container and allowing the droplets to drip down his chin as he gulped heavily.  
"Uh Merle," Daryl began, "This is Logan…" The older man merely grunted, not pausing from his drinking and tipping the remainder of the bottle over his red face and neck, "….Logan Lehane."  
The bottle dropped to the ground with an almost inaudible 'thunk' and Merle turned to face them with a tortured expression, an array of emotions crossing his pale blue eyes.  
"What did you just say?"  
"Well hi there," the teenage announced, approaching her father confidently with no discernible emotion evident on her face, "I believe we share DNA." She extended her hand for him to shake, but Merle just stared at it in disgust, as if she had just offered him something offensive. She withdrew it quickly and shrugged, meeting Daryl's concerned gaze with a happy smile. Something in the older Dixon brother seemed to snap as he stepped around the girl and grabbed Daryl's arm roughly, yanking him away from the truck;  
"What the fuck is this?!" He spat cruelly, flicking his head in Logan's direction as she went back to checking out her new weapon, showing no sign that she could hear the men talking.  
"She was with me when all this went down, her mum asked me to watch her as a favour…What was I supposed to do, say no?"  
"Yes! She ain't one of us! I know you've always had this little weakness for her and whatever. But you really want a kid tagging along with us? I'm not okay with that!"  
"You've had seventeen years to get used to the idea she exists…"  
"I've been pretty happy pretending that isn't the case. I mean, a fucking bastard girl? I've never wanted the kid in my life, and that ain't about to change now just because the world's gone to shit!" Merle's voice was layered with anger, but his defiance was weak compared to his normal standards, unable to put up a proper fight due to his poor health.  
"First of all, that kid has already proved herself an asset more than once. And secondly, she's blood, whether ya like it or not. She's staying. Ya better get used to it." Daryl walked back to the truck and his niece, ending the conversation with Merle quickly, who stood shocked for a moment at his brother's refusal to back down. He grumbled a few times and reluctantly joined the pair again as Daryl ensured the truck was packed properly and Logan kept an eye out in case of an attack.  
"Fine. The kid can stay, but we aren't playing happy families here! And I'm not sitting next to her in the truck," Merle muttered childishly.  
"Guess she's driving then because yer not in any condition to." The hunter countered, loading his crossbow into the cab. Merle started to exclaim in protest, but a wave of nausea silenced him as he fell to his knees and retched, coughing up most of the water he had just consumed. Daryl sighed and helped him back up once he was done vomiting, his older brother accepting the support without comment.  
Logan flashed them a grin and climbed into the driver's seat once the men had sat themselves on the bench seat, Daryl in the middle and Merle with his head pressed against the glass of the passenger side window, breathing heavily.  
A few zombies wondered through the wreckage towards the truck at the sound of its spluttering engine and the young girl didn't hesitate in reversing into one who had made its way to the back of the vehicle, its skull making a sickening crunch when it was crushed under the weight of the back tyre. The driver giggled in delight and turned to the men next to her with a look of pure glee;  
"Hold onto your hats boys, I drive fast," she cackled and soon Fontana was just a small reflection in the rear-view mirror as they sped back down the highway.

**A/N: **I know Merle seems a little OOC here, but it's only because he has sunstroke. Trust me, the Merle we all know and love (or hate depending haha) will be coming into the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Wow it's been a while since I updated this story, hopefully I'll be more consistent with chapter updates from now on. I'm really enjoying writing a fic in this style and I'll be the first to admit that I adore Logan, she's so much fun! Anyway please let me know what you think, reviews really encourage me to continue with it. Big thanks to all those who read, follow, favourite and review, it means so much! And a huge thank you to my beta **Calcifer179** who is the biggest help when it comes to all my fics, but especially this one. Hope you all enjoy it! :)

**6.**

"No way man! I ain't sitting in that car for another minute with that bitch!" The redneck yelled, making no attempt to hide his words from the said "bitch" who was grinning at them both from her perch on the back of the truck.  
"She's yer goddamn daughter Merle! You need to deal with this."  
"I don't know her from Adam. Enough is enough!"  
Daryl rubbed his eyes tiredly and tried to block out his brother's venting. The situation with Logan and Merle was only growing more and more tense the further they travelled down the highway. Logan was constantly antagonising her long-lost father, whether deliberately or unintentionally the younger Dixon brother was unsure, but it was definitely getting to Merle.  
"Land ho!" Logan called out, pointing down the road to what appeared to be a petrol station in the distance. They'd pulled over so that Merle could "use the facilities", and likely snort a small amount of coke he had hidden in the glove box of the truck, much to Daryl's chagrin, while he was at it, and none of them had complained at the opportunity to stretch their legs. The plan was to keep heading towards the mountains, an area the brothers were familiar with from their childhood, but they needed fuel and the food was already running short thanks to the flame-haired teen's ferocious appetite.  
"Hope they still have some smokes!" Merle mused aloud, rubbing his stubbled chin.  
"Cause nothing is better in the apocalypse than emphysema!" Logan joked with a wink, leaping from the tailgate of the truck and walking to the cab. She had done most of the driving since they had picked up Merle, it made things a lot easier if they had Daryl in between them. Not that the girl seemed bothered in the slightest by the presence of her estranged father, or the way he treated her.  
Merle jeered under his breath, shooting her a vicious glare and waiting for Daryl to climb into the cab of the truck, sliding across the bench seat so that Merle could be seated as far away from Logan as possible. The young redhead always drove maniacally; she had obviously been taught how to drive by someone other than her calm and collected mother because she treated the vehicle like she did her weapons, as just another extension of herself that she utilised mercilessly. With her speeding down the highway, Daryl gripping the seat with both hands, they pulled up at the old petrol station within minutes, skidding to a halt.  
"Fuck girl, you want every undead son-of-a-bitch on our arses?" Merle grumbled, opening the side door and jumping out quickly.  
"Um yeah. Pretty much," Logan said, smiling sweetly and retrieving her newly acquired machete from beneath the seat. It had been a few days since they had gotten the older Dixon brother from the Fontana jail and the young girl had seized every zombie killing opportunity as a way to better herself with her weapon. And even Merle had to reluctantly admit that she knew how to wield it.

* * *

Merle stayed at the truck, leaning wearily against the side of it with a look of sheer boredom, his rifle by his side and a hunting knife in his hand, while Daryl and Logan approached the building. Daryl walked with practiced ease, pacing towards the front door as quietly as he would while stalking prey in the woods. Logan practically skipped to the large, glass door, her gait silent, but far quicker than her uncle's and she pulled the door open and bounded inside without so much as a backwards glance. The redneck knew she could handle herself, Hell, over the past week or so he had seen her take down more zombies than seemed possible, but he also knew her recklessness could get her killed. It was as if she saw herself as totally indestructible, her viciousness offsetting her natural disadvantages of being small and physically weak. More than once she had come a hairs breadth away from being taken down by a attacking undead and with that thought and a low hiss he entered the store after her.  
It was dimly lit, the only thing illuminating it was the natural light that peeked through the slightly dirty windows. He'd been surprised that the shop hadn't been locked up, although when he stepped inside and saw evidence of looting and a few smashed panes of glass he understood that it was a likely reality that whoever had been working at the time had not even thought to lock the front door.  
"Logan! Where are you?" He half whispered into the gloom, stepping over rubbish and various items from the shelves that had been tossed to the ground.  
"Hey Dare," she greeted, popping her head out from an aisle up ahead, taking sips from an energy drink clasped in her hand.  
"Oh yer the last person who needs caffeine," Daryl grumbled, pulling various packaged foods off the shelves and chucking them into the bag slung over his shoulder.  
"There's more than caffeine in this my friend. I'll be buzzing for sure," Logan grinned happily. She still had her hair tied up in two dinky ponytails on the top of her head, which gave her the appearance of a slightly deranged doll. She was wearing his old t-shirt again, the one that hung to her knees, although she had tied it in a side knot so that it sat baggy on her, but tight across her narrow hips. Her leggings were now looking grubby, grass and dirt stains had turned the black to a dull brown and her tall boots were moderately scuffed. She was a tiny sprite of a thing and moved restlessly towards Daryl, still drinking from the can in her hand;  
"We should probably check the place out…"  
"Ya mean you didn't look for zombies?" The redneck cried, dropping the bag of chips he held in one hand to the ground in surprise.  
"Redbull," she motioned, shaking the now half empty can in his face as if it were an explanation, "Hello, priorities?"  
"Shit..." Daryl muttered, gripping his crossbow closer to his shoulder and raising himself above the line of shelves that ran down the centre of the room. The building did appear to be clear, although Daryl knew better than to take anything for granted and he carefully paced the inside of the gas station, his niece tracing his steps with nonchalant indifference.  
The interior seemed free of zombies, but the hunter eyed the door at the back of the building coolly, unsure of whether it was worth going through to what was presumably the store room.  
"Could be bulk packs of water and shit in there man…" Logan stated, as if reading his thoughts. Daryl grunted and raising his crossbow in one hand, turned the doorhandle quietly. The door creaked open with little resistance, opening up into a dirty and mostly empty back room. Boxes littered the floor and wall mounted shelves and a few fridges lined the back wall, spaced evenly next to another door which had the word 'Exit' marked above it in what at once been a neon sign.  
Daryl ignored the everything else bar the young Asian man who was standing in the centre of the room with his hands raised in a gesture of peace.  
"Don't shoot!" He cried out, his voice slightly strangled in fear as his eyes soaked in the view of the younger Dixon and the redhead standing in the doorway.  
For a moment the only sound was Logan taking the last sip of her energy drink and dropping the crumpled can to the ground while Daryl kept his crossbow pointed at the boy who was starting to break a sweat in panic.  
"Please, don't shoot," he repeated, lowering the small knife he had been holding aloft and laying it on the ground next to him, "I'm just here getting supplies, same as you."  
"You alone?" Daryl hissed, dropping his weapon only a fraction.  
"Yeah, yeah I am. I have a group, we're set up nearby, but it's just me here by myself…"  
"Oh way to spill your guts _Jet Li_!" Logan laughed, "We could be anyone. We could be rapists! Or cannibals! We're probably cannibals…"  
"How'd you get here?" Daryl asked, rolling his eyes at his niece.  
"I've got a car, parked round back," the boy gulped. Daryl thought he couldn't be older than twenty-four and he wore a baseball cap pulled firmly over smooth black hair. He appeared to be genuine, and with slight reluctance the redneck yanked his crossbow down, causing the Asian man to noticeably relax.  
"You best not be lying," Daryl growled in warning.  
"Why would I lie? Saw you have another man outside with your truck too, I'm not that stupid."  
"Anything worth taking back here?" Logan asked, eyes darting around the gloomy room. She didn't appear bothered in the slightest by their discovery of another survivor, the first they had seen since their run in with Scout and Noah.  
The young man shrugged slightly and gestured to his discarded back pack by his feet;  
"I took most of what was worth grabbing, but there are some more bottles and stuff if you want…You're, uh, welcome to come back to my group with me. We're always looking for more people. Safety in numbers and all that." He rubbed his face awkwardly and watched while Logan dove for a nearby box, shoving a few Redbulls into her small bag.  
Daryl considered the offer and appraised the boy further. Safety in numbers was right. But whether his family would be able to be part of a group was another question.  
"What's yer name kid?" Daryl asked, eyeing some cartons of cigarettes with interest before piling as many as he could fit into his own pack. Hopefully they, along with Merle's stash he had been keeping hidden on the motorbike would keep his brother happy.  
"Glenn Rhee," he replied shortly, "You?"  
"Daryl Dixon," came the grumbled answer as the hunter shifted his crossbow over his back and added some bottles of water to the now heavy bag, "And this is Logan Lehane." The girl grinned at Glenn, stuffing a chocolate bar whole into her mouth.  
"My brother, Merle, is the one out by the truck. We'll follow you, come see this group for ourselves. Any funny business and we'll do what we need to do." The young man nodded in acknowledgment of Daryl's threat.  
"It's a good group, women and children there too. We're protected up at the quarry, got weapons…"  
"Good, hope you guys know how to use them." Logan's grin widened and she brandished her machete menacingly.  
"Back down Loges, we ain't got time for yer shit. Now out you go Chinaman, we'll follow you." Glenn gulped and nodded, retrieving his knife and bag as they headed out the front of the petrol station. A heavy onslaught of loud rock music flooded over them as they exited the building and Daryl groaned loudly. Merle had been leaning into the truck to fiddle with the knobs of the old radio, turning the song up full, a small tank of petrol resting by his booted feet.  
"What the fuck Merle, turn that shit down!" The younger Dixon yelled, rushing for the truck.  
"What?" Merle countered, cupping his hand around his ear, "Gotta speak up Daryl!"  
"You had a go at Logan for drawing attention to us and now yer going to get us killed!" He silenced the radio with the twist of a button and they all stood in the silence, each listening intently for any sign of danger. And it came. A low chorus of rumbling growls that appeared from every direction as every zombie in the surrounding area encroached on the gas station.  
"Shit," Glenn exclaimed, dropping his bag near the pumps and fingering his knife, "Look what you did?"  
"Who the fuck are you kid?" Merle leered, stepping menacingly towards the boy, "Hey Daryl! Who is this chink?"  
"No time for that Merle, we have to get out of here," his brother retorted, throwing his pack into the back of the truck and checking to make sure his crossbow was loaded.  
"No time for that either man," Logan cried, gesturing to a group of zombies that were almost upon them, barely feet away on the road. Several more had appeared from behind the gas station and were presuming a slow, steady shuffle in the direction of the survivors.  
"How many?"  
"Doesn't look like much, maybe two each. Can you fight Short Round?" Merle asked, once more rounding on Glenn, who was looking slightly squeamish, but nodded mutely.  
"Grab yer rifle Merle and stay by the truck. Logan…Shit where's Logan?" Daryl span almost comically in a full circle before spotting the girl egging two zombies on and leading them back into the building behind the group.  
"Forget her man; she can handle 'em! We need to kill these sons-of-bitches!" As if to emphasise his point, Merle gripped his hunting knife and ran in the direction of one of the zombies that was now upon them, driving his weapon hard and fast into its skull. Glenn had turned a funny shade of grey, but seemed to be managing to hold off an infected by himself, hitting it continuously with his elbow until it dropped heavily. Daryl felt a swell of grudging respect for the young man as he plunged his knife into the assailant's temple, causing it to spit black blood all over the concrete beside it.  
As he felled a zombie with a well-placed arrow his thoughts returned to Logan and he seized a quiet moment when no undead blocked his path to race towards the store front. He heard the sound of a shelf toppling, the loud clanking of cans on stone floor and a small yell from his niece before he made it to the door. The shelves had fallen during a scuffle between the girl and a zombie, but it's body and the storage unit now blocked the entrance way to the building and Daryl knew he wouldn't get inside before Logan was taken down by another attacker that was slowly backing her towards the store counter. He peered over the shelving unit and called out his niece's name, hoping to distract the still fumbling zombie's attention. Logan stared at him with wide eyes, and glanced towards her machete which he now noticed lay beyond the shelf and in the centre of the store, out of his reach and behind the undead creature that was now dangerously close to the unharmed girl. She clutched her shoulder tightly with one hand, alerting Daryl to what he assumed was some sort of wound and he only prayed it wasn't a bite, but his eyes were pulled away from her when he was forced to draw his knife and relentlessly stab a zombie that had suddenly growled behind him. Its fetid breath seemed to stain his clothes when it lunged for him, but despite his surprise the hunter was faster than the walking corpse and it only took one quick movement for him to send the zombie sprawling to the ground.  
"Come here you ugly bitch!" Logan cried, and Daryl watched, unable to help the girl as she ducked beneath the counter, urging the zombie to follow her. All its thought processes seemed to focus around its insatiable hunger and it flopped to its hands and knees, half crawling and half dragging itself under the bar of the counter. With a war like cry and a strength Daryl hadn't known she possessed the redhead pushed the store's old fashioned cash register off the bench top and it slammed down on the head of the snapping zombie, just as it wrapped a hand around her bony ankle. The cash register emitted a _"ker-ching" _as it connected with the creature skull and the zombie's body twitched for a moment before its moans cut out, it's entire top half hidden under the metal register. With a groan Logan bent down to pry the dead fingers off her ankle and returned to grasping her shoulder, which Daryl was thankful to see wasn't bleeding. Behind him he heard Merle give out a whoop of delight, as the final sounds of the zombies trailed off. Without speaking Logan stepped over the body in front of her, ducking under the counter again and shuffled over to her machete, gingerly picking it up with her good arm.  
"You'll have to go round the back, get out through that exit. I would have come to help you that way, but pretty sure the door only opens from the inside," Daryl spoke, hoping his words were sufficient explanation and apology.  
"I handled it," Logan muttered, but her voice sounded sharp and almost fearful as she turned around, heading for the store room.  
"We're all good here little brother. Chinaman wasn't half bad with that pokey knife of his…" Daryl faced his brother who was wiping a bead of sweat from his red face and watched as the young Asian man approached them, crossing his arms over his thin chest;  
"My name's Glenn and I'm Korean," he mumbled, not quite meeting the eyes of the rednecks.  
"Whatever," Merle shrugged, clearly buzzing from his kills, "Where's the girl?"  
"Heading out the back, this door got blocked off…"  
As if on cue Logan's fluffy red head poked around the side of the building and she eyed the gathered men cautiously before grinning, a smile which didn't meet her eyes.  
She ambled towards the truck, stowing her machete underneath the seat and hopped in after it, drumming the steering wheel with one hand.  
"She okay?" Glenn asked, showing a surprising amount of concern for the young girl.  
"Hurt her shoulder I think, when she pulled down on one of those zombies…"  
"Walkers."  
"What?" Daryl asked, idly readjusting his crossbow and wiping the gore from his knife on the shirt of one of the nearby bodies.  
"We call them Walkers, the group I'm in. Zombies sounds so…unreal."  
"Well this is real," Merle spat, turning on the ball of his foot and stomping in the direction of his daughter and the truck.  
"We'll come and check out this group of yers I think, might be safer there," Daryl murmured, shooting Glenn a quick glance and watching the smaller man gulp in nervousness before nodding slowly. Logan had had a damn close call and the hunter knew that she really was badly hurt, she needed time to heal up, and they needed to stay safe.  
He offered to drive the truck, take over for Logan who refused to mention the pain in her shoulder and arm and glared at him when he questioned her ability to drive;  
"I'm fine dude, it's just a sprain. Best to keep it moving, loosen it up."  
Daryl wasn't totally sure if that was in fact advisable, but something in her tone told him it was best not to argue and so he slid into the middle, Merle taking his usual seat next to his brother after he had stowed the gas can in the truck bed.  
They tailed the car, Logan driving unexpectedly cautiously and favouring her right arm, for what felt like about twenty minutes before they turned onto a dirt road that appeared to be leading them straight into the hills. Daryl and Merle sat in silence throughout the entire drive, the older Dixon smoking with his elbow balanced on the open truck window. Every now and then the quiet was punctuated by Logan commentating her own driving under her breath as if she were in a slow race, her voice barely a whisper above the dull roar of the engine.  
Soon a campsite loomed into view, a white RV standing proud at the forefront, surrounded by assorted tents, cars and gathered people. Glenn had pulled the Toyota to a stop, leaving a wide berth for Daryl's truck and was busy talking to several individuals, gesturing his hands wildly to emphasise whatever he was discussing with them. Most of the people stopped what they were doing to watch as the truck rolled in, Logan pulling in to a stop abruptly just beyond the edge of a few tents.  
Before Daryl could reconsider whether meeting this group was truly a good plan, the young redhead had hopped out of the vehicle, clutching her machete in her right hand and pulling her left shoulder back so it sat more comfortably. He sighed exasperatedly and shot Merle what he hoped was a warning look, before following his brother out of the truck.  
"Well hello," came a greeting, voiced by a broad shouldered man with curly dark hair and a look of fleeting worry in his eyes, "I'm Shane. Welcome to camp, it's good to see other survivors."  
Merle sneered at the offered hand and eyeballed the people gathered, noting it was a group of about fifteen, all of various ages, genders and ethnicities.  
Further introductions were hastily made, although the group quickly caught on to the fact that the brothers weren't ones for pleasant conversation.  
"Who's in charge here?" Merle asked, after names had been exchanged, "Would that be you?" He rounded on Shane, appraising him.  
Shane puffed out his chest in a typical macho stance;  
"In a manner of speaking. We all work together here." The older redneck snorted derisively and busied himself in lighting another cigarette, only partially avoiding blowing smoke all over the other man.  
"You're more than welcome to stay with us, as long as you want," the white haired man named Dale announced, raising an eyebrow towards Shane, "You can camp here if you want or…"  
"We'll figure something out," Daryl drawled, "Ain't about to start sitting around the campfire and seeing 'Kumbaya' with y'all." Logan tittered merrily in the background and stared at the groups younger members as if sizing them up.  
"Can you do any hunting with that crossbow of yours?" Shane asked, pointing at the weapon hanging off Daryl's shoulder.  
"'Course, it ain't decorative."  
"We'd really appreciate it, if you end up staying. Fresh meat would do everyone some good; only so far canned vegetables can get us." A few of those gathered nodded in earnest, clearly excited at the idea of more food.  
"We'll see…maybe if we're staying."  
Shane nodded and turned his attention back to the tall brunette woman and small boy who were standing over by the RV, watching the entire exchange with questioning stares.  
"Staying wouldn't be such a bad idea little brother," Merle uttered when the other group members had returned to their duties, "Seems safe here. Plus there is the potential for 'fulfilling our needs'"  
"What the fuck are you getting at?"  
"Looks like they're well set up here, if everything goes to plan we can rob 'em blind and hightail it out of here. Hit the road and head for the woods like we planned. Can get supplies from them all without having to lift a finger. They've got, what? A handful of men, looks like mostly women and kids. They wouldn't even know what hit them." Daryl considered his brother's words, inspecting the group set up more closely. He had no desire to hurt, or even rob anyone, but they'd be better off on their own in the long run. This would just be temporary. He nodded once and called out to Shane;  
"We're going to set up our tents now, over there by the woods. I'll go hunting tomorrow if ya want."  
The man seemed surprised by the rednecks offer, but didn't question it and merely sent a small smile his way, before entering into deep conversation with the Asian boy about what food he had managed to collect.  
Logan was showing little interest in the campsite or the residents, but did quirk an eyebrow in Daryl's direction when he had declared their intentions to set up camp. He remembered how she had described herself as not 'playing well with others' on their first day together and he felt a twinge of worry at what her interactions with the group might lead to. Merle was an arsehole, plain and simple, but no doubt these people could handle one arsehole. Would they be able to deal with a psychotic teenager too?

* * *

Logan had claimed the smaller tent for herself, and set it up with no comment except the odd wince when she used her left hand, simply throwing her bedding and belongings, bar the machete, into the tent door and sitting down gracefully on a fallen log. She seemed almost overwhelmed by the presence of so many strangers and Daryl wondered for a moment if maybe she was battling with an introverted side of herself. That was until two blondes approached them, looking very 'All American Girl' with bright eyes and glowing fair skin.  
"Hi there!" The younger of the duo ventured, flashing perfectly white teeth, "I'm Amy and this is my sister Andrea." The other blonde, who looked to be in her early thirties smiled at the Dixons and Logan with slightly forced enthusiasm. Merle, who had pulled the truck closer to their chosen camping area and adamantly refused to assist Daryl in setting up the larger tent, leered at her seedily, taken his time in looking her body over.  
"We were wondering," Andrea started, ignoring Merle's obvious appreciation for her figure and turning to address the teenage girl, "If you wanted to come down to the quarry with us to wash your clothes."  
Logan grinned widely and let out a small laugh;  
"Sorry Vanilla, I'd really love to, but I don't want to."  
Both sisters eyes widened in surprise and Daryl saw Andrea bristle at the young girls chosen nickname for her.  
"I know it's a bit anti-feminist, but we try to distribute the labour around here…"  
"Well oki doki then, you both just run along and do that," Merle suddenly interjected, "Although you can stay if you want Sugar Tits." He winked at Andrea who glared disgustedly at him before dragging Amy away back to the main camp.  
"You two make quite an impression," Daryl scowled, finishing with the tent and wiping his hands on his jeans, "Ya know yer gonna have to help out around here Logan, now let me have a look at that shoulder."  
"If you've got some zombies that need slaying man you send them my way. Vanilla and White Lighting over there can keep all the pantie washing to themselves," the girl smiled, reluctantly pulling up the sleeve of her t-shirt to reveal the bruised and swollen looking shoulder bone and allowing Daryl to prod it gently, declaring it badly sprained. Merle chuckled despite himself and flicked his cigarette butt jokingly at the girl who was kicking the dirt in front of her lazily, clenching her teeth as her uncle located the first aid kit in his tent and set about strapping her shoulder. He motioned for Merle to turn around while he asked Logan to lift her shirt and helped her pry the injured arm out of her sleeve. Daryl was shocked, but almost glad at seeing his brother hesitate in taking his eye off the injured girl, a flash of concern flickering in his blue gaze before he huffed and headed for their shared tent. It was nice to see him warm up to Logan, although Daryl suspected it was only because he knew they'd have to stick together now that they were a part of a larger group. Dixons didn't do much, but they definitely looked out for one another.


End file.
